


You see with your mind on hold

by natalie19h34



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Angst, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, I'm sorry these tags are a mess, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Surreal, implied harm, light/implied body horror, please read notes for more info, tender caring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26105629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalie19h34/pseuds/natalie19h34
Summary: His mind goes blank, but he instinctively grabs at Eliott behind him and takes a step back. He's encircled by arms as Eliott maneuvers them as silently as possible in the opposite direction of the pained exclamations that so clearly resound in Lucas' ears.or: surreal horror turns tender caring
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51





	You see with your mind on hold

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this today in the morning; the idea came as a fragment and I cupped it with my hands and now here we are. I would not recommend you to read this if you are sensitive to angst & (surreal) horror content. I find the scenes too short to put in warnings for every detail, but you can avoid reading the first part and start at "There's a distant feeling", if you like.  
> I did not proof-read this work.

His temples and tongue hurt; from strain and from having bitten on it in concentration as the rocky ledge on which he tries to balance himself got smaller and smaller until he had to press his back against the roughness and take the meters step by heedful step. It's demanding; the constant change of underground and echos and lurking death traps. He doesn't want his life to end just yet. Not at his age, and especially not when actually having different plans altogether for this day, evening, night. 

"This isn't exactly what I thought we'd do on our first date. Or ever." 

Eliott doesn't sound scared; rather cautious, but his voice doesn't quiver, doesn't show any signs of a rush of adrenaline caused by current unknown terrain and devouring darkness.

Lucas slightly blushes at the word  _ date _ . He isn't even sure if this counts as one; their matter lacking dinner and lush flowers, albeit stolen glances and accidental (or not so accidental) touches can be found. He's captivated by their proximity despite having to pay attention to not trip, to not lose balance, which would ultimately result in his body being crashed on the ground deep down underneath a sheen of fog. Treacherous gray and venomous green. 

There is no sky above him. 

The scenery is wide and stuffed equally. Somehow he just knows this. 

"Yeah", he murmurs as his bare hands and arms shove the suave and sharp edged leaves, which are blocking their path, away as gently as possible. They might be the size of his head, likely bigger. The minuscule wounds in his tender, uncovered parts aren't visible in their surrounding almost-blackness; as though they're nothing more than an imagined sensation. A crack between realism and surrealism. 

"Yeah, me neither."

A strident sound not too far away penetrates the dull scene and lets Lucas pause abruptly, muscles unmoved by an inkling and fast paced fear. Pulse quick in his throat as he doesn't dare to draw the next breath in. Then: a repetition. It's undeniably a scream, either young or female, both. 

His mind goes blank, but he instinctively grabs at Eliott behind him and takes a step back. He's encircled by arms as Eliott maneuvers them as silently as possible in the opposite direction of the pained exclamations that so clearly resound in Lucas' ears. 

He swallows, tries to breathe flatly, grip tight on Eliott and tight on himself in return. 

He doesn't want to face any monstrous creatures and give up parts of himself tonight. 

The atmosphere shifts instantly yet again after just a few minutes of walking, as though nothing out of the ordinary has occurred in the first place. However, welcoming the quietness a second time doesn't feel nearly as reassuring. There's a numbing heaviness that blankets the air, puts pressure on Lucas' sternum and creeps up until it reaches his throat, threatening to either spill right out him or suffocate him completely. 

He can't sense Eliott anymore. As though he too is a mere image of his gruesome phantasy. 

As soon as he realizes that, it feels like losing an anchor, floating around helplessly and alone, without any human security. He looks around panickedly, but it's so dark. So dark and cold and he shivers violently, as staggers along the edge in search of anything - just  _ anything _ . He almost trips over as suddenly skin wraps around his absurd arm. He can't make out more details in the predominant absence of light, but words dig their way through the veil of horror and the way vowels and consonants are being spoken is  _ familiar _ . This realization alone produces a dizziness that lets him sigh and scramble up and directly into it. 

It's Eliott's. Of course is it. 

"Lucas, you can't just run away, we have to stay together and find a way out!", he whispers into Lucas' ear at quick tempo.

But Lucas' brain is clouded, thoughts arriving and vanishing through an open gate that he doesn't know how to close; to lock. The air is too warm in this area of the mise-en-scene and he's sweating; shirt damp and hair sticking to his temples. Maybe he's dehydrated. 

Eliott creates more words and sentences, uttered in hushed tones, but Lucas can't keep up. He envies the mechanism; how easily you can control when to speak and when to remain quiet. To just open or close the mouth. He wishes he could apply this technique to his mind, too. 

His vision is blurry and gaze unfocused as he lets himself be guided yet another time. There are no screams to be heard ever since they fled but the weight of scenery remains. It's as though the molecules all around them are far heavier up here; a ting themselves on his shell and permeate epidermis, layer, layer. 

He mutters; "I don't want to be cracked open." Then, louder, because he didn't receive an answer to his spoken panic: "Eliott please, I don't want to spill out, please." 

He starts to cry after forcing it out, a constant stream of raw-voiced versions of  _ please _ . His skin aches and he does, too. 

He rips free from Eliott's hold and falls to the ground; the earth muddy and loose beneath his figure, clinging to his wet cheek. He shoves his stiff fingers into the inky mass, trying to regain his senses, reclaiming some logic that is stuck just somewhere out of his reach. His chest is heaving and the oxygen has a hard time filling his cells; after a few seconds of nothing but existing, he realizes he's alone. Eliott's gone; gone with the nameless girl, with the unreachable creatures and gone with Lucas' half of a heart.

Air grows more potent, still. 

Soil is giving in. 

Lucas's sinking and sinking, but the process of realization resembles the viscosity of thick honey; and it's too late, anyway. He's surrounded by it; by heaviness and the fear of what's about to come. The unknown. He draws his legs up and hugs his shins, closes his overstrained eyes and lets the earth swallow him whole; mind and flesh. 

It's infiltrating his body and makes a home of itself inside of Lucas. He's coughing and sputtering. It strangely feels like a reunion. 

The lines between himself - and everything that is anything but - diminish until the only thing in existence is infinity. 

He breathes in. 

He breathes out. 

A last time. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


He lost memory of what happened between then and now; or maybe there was no memory to remember. 

It's contrasting, for sure. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


There's a distant feeling of recognition flowing through his system as he regains consciousness. The warmth is visible; the red gleam through his closed lids announces the presence of the sun and… 

Indeed. He has trouble opening his eyes again. He hurts. Rays too bright for him to bear after shades and shadows. His breath is labored and the skin sticky with tears and sweat. Lucas can feel every part of his body as if his senses are amplified drastically, but this also means he's alive and able to move. 

The ground is neither dark nor hungry anymore, so he carefully turns his head to the other side. And he's there: Eliott. In all his sleep tousled beauty, illuminated by gold and Lucas' heart speeds up. 

He's crying again, more pronounced apparently, because Eliott stirs centimeters next to him. Lucas lets out a choked off sound and sniffles into the whiteness beneath. 

He sees Eliott awake, brows furrowed in confusion and remnants of sleep. 

"Lucas?" Voice groggy and gentle. 

Lucas sobs helplessly, limbs sore and soul exhausted and he just doesn't know what to  _ do  _ \- 

Eliott tries to sooth; "Hey. Hey shh, I'm here." and scoops Lucas up and into his arms, bare and uninjured just as his own. 

  
  


_ I'm here, I'm here, I'm here….  _

  
  


All he does is surrender and attempt to breathe and hear Eliott's soft, sweet whispers; mouth on the shell of his ear, close. He lets himself be distracted by their occasional brush and the varying patterns on his back. Hold secure and tender, like Lucas will never get lost ever again. Eliott won't let that happen. The ache starts to lessen bit by bit, minute for minute. 

"Do you want to tell me about it? To tell me what happened?" 

But Lucas sturdily shakes his head no. He refuses to let the dread linger any longer or more intentionally by letting the affairs surface; to pull them towards the light. To analyze the specifics of those horrendous events and dwell on unreal misgivings. He inspects his arms - just to make sure. 

His tears are greeted by a kind thumb and compassionate eyes. 

He quietly communicates how gross and damp he feels and Eliott complies immediately; but Lucas is tired of being led to places, so he goes ahead and trusts Eliott will follow. The worries of sudden disappearance are brushed away, which Lucas takes a good sign. He avoids his reflection in the mirror. 

They strip off their clothes and Lucas receives a brief kiss on his lips before well-tempered water runs down their bodies and a generous amount of shampoo is being massaged into his hair and scalp by Eliott's skillful fingers. It's smelling fruity and lively; it's exactly what he needs right now. He's lacking energy but appreciates the non-verbal show of affection more than words could describe. Slow yet intentful movements. 

It was just a dream - a nightmare. It's gone, it can't harm him anymore. 

_ It's gone and can't harm him anymore.  _

He mentally repeats it as he lets out a sigh at Eliott covering his skin in shower gel and foam and kisses and love. He leans back into him as fuzzy sparkles of security form inside of him. A piquant orange and levitating blue. 

He turns around and Eliott nuzzles his nose into Lucas' jaw, cheek, nose to nose. Lucas hums and kisses him, whispers  _ thank you _ in between and the stream washes the crude contours of the night away. He's glad he can't think of most of the details. 

He gently nibbles on Eliott's bottom lip and licks into his mouth as it's opening; purposely opening. He wants to solely concentrate on this exact feeling; arms wrapped around Eliott's neck, them touching skin on skin, hands on Lucas' lower back - descending. He runs his pads and nails through Eliott's wet stands and grabs a handful. It has the desired effect and Eliott moans into his mouth, chases his tongue feverishly. 

"How do you feel,  _ mon amour _ ?", he asks in a gasp. 

Safe. Bone-tired. "Loved." 

"I do love you. So much. You're with me when demons are eager and I'm with you, as well", Eliott declares in the meager space separating them and it's the first time since he's had this nightmare that his veins fill with pure contentment and he threatens to spill adoration into Eliott's every pore. 

Lucas chooses to answer physically and manages to jump up and wrap his legs around Eliott's middle section, arms always ready to catch. His being sings whenever they are together and even more so in intimate moments either version. He chooses to ground himself with Eliott's help and bathe in their understanding and caring, in friction and love-making. It makes him light-headed. 

  
  


He's unsteady on his feet as they emerge a while later; not just because of the orgasm. Eliott dries them efficiently and promises him to go prepare him some food and juice. Lucas is unsure whether he actually wants it; to take another nap or eat a bit. He lies sprawled out on their bed and as soon as Eliott's smile comes into his field of vision again, he's filled with calmness. 

He's being fed and feeds in return. Tongue experiencing and expecting sickly sweet grapes, buttery pastries, golden liquid, agile and caring fingers. It will take a while for him to put the nightly visions ad acta but he can look at the sun every day. He'll manage. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little experimental; the title is inspired by "Don't Sleep" by SKYLR.  
> I hope you liked it! If so, I'd be happy about kudos/comments. Thanks for reading <3  
> (@nachtumringt on tumblr)


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